"Ought I to tell you," continued Scacciati, "that I have worked at it from my earliest youth, and that in spite of all the opposition of my father, I have already been with several great artists? Annibal Carracci has advised me, and I confess myself the pupil of Guido Reni."
"In that case," exclaimed Salvator, in a voice slightly moved, and through which appeared a little irony, "if you are, as I believe, the worthy pupil to such high talent, how can you find in my humble paintings the least merit?"
Antonio's face became scarlet, but he continued quickly: "Allow me to tell you all. I have never, I swear to you, venerated the talent of any master so much as I have done yours; I admire the sublime elevation of ideas which breathes in your works. You know how to bring to light the most secret beauties of nature, you read in her mysterious books; you understand her voice, and you depict her to the life on the canvas!"
"A thousand thanks," interrupted Salvator, "you repeat those fine words to me after the manner of the jealous, who abandon landscape to me in order to make room for themselves in the historic style. In effect, have I the least knowledge in the world of how to sketch the human figure!"
"For heaven's sake, master, do not be angry; the real painters in Rome would be too happy to copy after you! No, the vulgar term landscape cannot be applied to your pictures; they are living scenes from which the thoughts spring in luminous features, which attest the independence of a creation, even when you seem to imitate nature. That is the sign of true genius, as Guido Reni and Pietri the Calabrian say, painters who know how to work conscientiously!"
Salvator listened to the young man in astonishment. When he had ended, he threw himself into his arms.
"You have just spoken," said he, "with an understanding of art much, superior to that of many false artists who praise the vulgar. Whilst listening to you, it seemed to me that my genius revealed itself to me! Be my friend, Scacciati,
